


something golden

by brucespringsteen



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Dacryphilia, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Endgame, Retirement, Somnophilia, Top Steve Rogers, it's brief!, steve talks a lot during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24452329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brucespringsteen/pseuds/brucespringsteen
Summary: One unremarkable morning in bed, Steve asks Bucky to marry him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 30
Kudos: 415





	something golden

**Author's Note:**

> naturally, this wasn't planned to happen at all and instead came from me complaining about not being able to decide what dress bucky should wear for his and steve's wedding in a separate fic.

Steve wakes up on his own, slow and sweet, and stretches lazily as fingers of sunlight shining through the open window drag and caress his bare body. The sheets are wrapped around his hips, tangled and wrinkly; Bucky’s hair—long, now, and wavy like the ivy that creeps up along the sides of their home—is spread out beside him, dark like chocolate with cherry highlights. He smiles as he rolls over and pulls the sheets away for a better view.

Bucky is sleeping soundly, arm thrown up above his head and legs angled open. His cheeks are little cherries of color and his pretty pink mouth is parted slightly; his freckled chest is rising and falling with even, steady breaths. He tends to go without his prosthetic more often than not, and the raised white-pink scars of his shoulder are almost effervescent in the sunlight. His dick is half-hard, lovely and soft-looking, and a sharp idea forms in Steve’s mind.

He giggles under his breath and worms his way down the bed. It’s big, something the two of them were very adamant about when they decided to move upstate to an old abandoned farmhouse a few years ago, and it’s served them so well. He gets himself comfortable, shouldering between Bucky’s thighs, and looks his fill.

Bucky’s cock, like all of him, is pretty. It’s long and slim, and curves just at the tip; the head is always pink and wet, like he’s perpetually on the brink of an orgasm. Steve gathers that wetness with his fingers and brings it to his mouth to suck off. He lays his head on Bucky’s inner thigh and grips Bucky at the base, where his dark pubic hair gathers, and squeezes for a fast moment before dragging his hand up. It’s dry friction, and it’ll wake Bucky up, but Steve is in no hurry to rush this morning along.

He loves Bucky’s cock. He loves a lot of things about Bucky—his kindness, his tenderness and the easy way he smiles and fixes the problem even when the rain is blowing through the backdoor and Steve is about to pull his hair out because, once again, he forgot to do the laundry and they have no towels to put down to sop up the water—but he especially loves worshipping Bucky’s cock whenever he can and taking his time to do so.

There’s nothing in the world quite like being the one to love Bucky Barnes.

Bucky makes a stifled sound and shifts; Steve holds his legs apart with his shoulders and muffles his laughter against Bucky’s balls, giving them a few kisses as he fondles them in his palm. He keeps his mouth closed, though, because it’s too early to be picking pubic hair out from between his teeth.

He continues the easy, listless hand job, pecking Bucky’s balls every once in a while, until Bucky wakes up completely and whispers faintly, widening his spread thighs and drawing one of his legs up to give more room for Steve to work.

Steve picks his head up off Bucky’s thigh and grins, keeping the grip he has on Bucky’s shaft loose and light as he continues to pump up and down at an indolent pace. “Good morning, baby,” he says, leaning close to press a gentle kiss to the top of Bucky’s prick.

Bucky sighs. “Good morning,” he says, laughing a bit under his breath as Steve continues to jerk him slowly. He puts his hand in Steve’s hair, gripping the thickness more for another place to touch than to control Steve’s movements. “What’s the occasion? You hardly ever wake me up like this.”

“Nothing.” Steve leans up a bit to get a good look at Bucky. His face is flushed even darker and his hair is still wild, fanned out all over their pillows; his eyes are big and wide and sparkly, and the smile on his mouth is like heaven. “I just wanted to do something special for you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep.” Steve rubs his beard on the sensitive skin of Bucky’s inner thigh, leaving behind a red patch that he kisses thoroughly before moving up to suckle at Bucky’s tip, flattening his tongue and flicking it into the slit with each pass of his hand. “Sure is, baby. You complainin’?”

Bucky outright laughs. “Of course I’m not complaining. Keep going.” He arches his back and thrusts his hips, just a little bit. “I’m about to come.”

“Don’t gag me, m’kay?”

“M’kay.”

Steve hums, eliciting a rather keen shove of Bucky’s hips that forces Bucky’s cock further into his mouth. He widens his jaw and moves his hand to grip the base, holding Bucky still as he sinks all the way down; the tip hits his throat and he struggles to swallow for a moment before his nose is flush with Bucky’s pubic hair.

He stays there, breathing shallowly through his nose and curling his tongue around the vein. The noises Bucky is making are like music to Steve’s ears—the little whimpers, the staccato-like “ah, ah, ah” of being submerged in wet warmth and having no way to thrust because he’s being held down is Steve’s third favorite thing to hear, behind Bucky’s laughter and the way that Bucky says ‘I love you.’

He pulls off slow, hollowing his cheeks; spit dribbles from the corners of his mouth as he sucks, hard, and Bucky is coming before he’s even at the head. It’s nasty and hot and abrupt, hitting the back of Steve’s throat and almost choking him, but Steve swallows anyway.

Bucky softens a bit, but Steve continues pumping as he begins to kiss his way up Bucky’s body. He pecks beneath Bucky’s bellybutton and drags his mouth up, kissing the muscles and the scars and the stretch marks, paying special attention to his pebbled dark pink nipples, until he’s biting playfully at Bucky’s chin. Bucky laughs and drags Steve up by the hair of the head to kiss his mouth until neither of them can breathe because they’re giggling too hard.

“I love you,” Steve says as he reaches for the lube hidden somewhere between the sheets. He uncaps the lid, squirts a generous dollop on four of his fingers, and presses against Bucky’s hole. He spreads the slick until Bucky’s fluttering, and then he pushes the tip of one in, watching the way Bucky’s eyes widen as his body welcomes the intrusion. “You’re so pretty.”

“Hmm.” Bucky combs his fingers through Steve’s messy hair and curves his hips upward; a pillow appears under his ass and Steve isn’t sure which one of them reached for it because he can’t stop staring into Bucky’s eyes. He finds whatever he’s looking for in them; he knows now why eyes are referred to as a mirror of the soul because Bucky shows Steve everything. “I’m a sure deal, Rogers. You don’t have to romance me with your fingers in my ass.”

Steve cackles and smudges a rough kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “What if I want to romance you?” he asks, airily, as he adds a finger. Bucky’s tight, as always, but they fucked last night just before falling asleep and he gives easy. “What if I want to romance you for the rest of my life?”

Bucky sighs and tilts his hips, allowing Steve a bit of wiggle room as he begins to scissor his fingers. “I think that’s a good idea.” He grins and pulls Steve’s head down; their lips meet, and the kiss is sweet and simple, closed-mouthed and tender. When Bucky pulls back, he’s smiling brighter than the sun is shining. “I wouldn’t mind being romanced by you for the rest of my life. Especially if you wake me up like this.”

“I’ll wake you up like this everyday if that’s what you want.” He slips another finger in, unfurling his digits and curling them down. He feels Bucky’s prostate and tickles over it delicately, grinning at Bucky’s acute intake of breath and the way he seizes at the rush of pleasure. “I’ll give you whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Bucky smiles and cups Steve’s face with his hand. “All I want is you, Steve.”

Bucky pulls Steve into another kiss. Their tongues meet and hold; Bucky’s mouth tastes like something died in it and Steve’s sure his is no better, but, still, he’s smiling and he’s happy, and Bucky’s smiling and he’s happy, and that’s what matters.

With no resistance at all, Steve slips in his fourth finger; Bucky’s open now, and with a little bit more lube he’ll be ready. Steve gives a few good pushes with his fingers before removing them completely, reaching for the lube and slicking his cock up. Bucky holds himself still as Steve lines up and sinks all the way in.

It’s warm. It’s wet. It’s comfort like a hug, except on his dick, and Steve laughs at that, at the road his mind has taken, because there’s surely some other way to describe the way it feels to know that he is always welcome in Bucky’s body, but for the life of him he can’t focus enough to care to find it.

He drops low, putting his chest against Bucky’s as he begins to move. There’s a bit of friction; Steve’s chest hair, unruly as it is, is going to leave little bitty splashes of red across Bucky’s skin if he rubs up against him for long. “One of these days, Bucky,” he begins, bracketing Bucky’s head with his elbows and runs his fingers through Bucky’s silky-smooth hair, treating him like the darling princess that he is, “I’m going to marry you.”

“Oh?” Bucky grunts as Steve begins a steady pace, hard like Bucky prefers and slow like he tends to enjoy most. Compromising in the bedroom isn’t always a bad thing. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” He grins. “Yeah, baby.” Bucky finds one of Steve’s hands with his own and interlaces their fingers. Steve has always loved Bucky’s hands—even as a child, as a kid with ruddy cheeks and a toothless grin, Bucky’s had the hands of somebody solid and tender. Steve loved Bucky’s hands when they were wrapped around his throat; Steve loves Bucky’s hands now, gripping Steve’s fingers as he makes their tummies sticky with precum. “I’m gonna get you a ring with a little diamond on it ‘cause I know you like those the most.”

“Oh.” Bucky’s lips part in a throaty moan as Steve’s thrusts drag across his prostate. His Adam’s apple bobs with his breath and Steve watches the movement, absolutely fascinated with the mundanity. “Oh, yes. _Yes_.”

“And we’re gonna plan it together, baby.” He curls his body atop Bucky’s, planting his knees on the bed between Bucky’s thighs for leverage to fuck in a little deeper, a little harder. The drag and slide is wonderful. “We’re gonna take our time and make it perfect.”

Bucky’s glassy blue eyes meet Steve’s. “Are we?” His voice is thick; he’s about to cry, and Steve loves the tears Bucky gives him. He feels like he’s baptized every time, dunked beneath the water of a lake hidden in the forest until he shines with glory.

“Yes.” Steve brushes Bucky’s bangs off his forehead and kisses his way across. “Nat’s gonna be my best woman, and Sam can be your maid of honor.”

Bucky barks a short laugh. “God, Sam would love to hear this.”

“Hmm. Sharon can walk me down the aisle, and T’Challa can walk you.” He knots his free hand in Bucky’s hair and tugs Bucky’s head back, baring his throat. He looks good, stretched out like this as he’s being dicked so good. “Can you imagine?” He kisses Bucky’s pulse point. “Can you imagine it, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” Bucky untangles his fingers from Steve’s and reaches for Steve’s ass; he grips Steve’s cheek and digs his fingernails into the fat flesh. Steve hisses at the slight pain and Bucky presses harder and the grin they share with one another is simultaneously divine and dirty. “Yes.”

“Just us. Just our family.” He drags his mouth down Bucky’s throat and bites lightly at the curve of Bucky’s clavicle. It’s a sensitive place, one that he knows well; Bucky whines and jerks so hard he nearly dislodges Steve from his body. Steve fixes himself and grins against Bucky’s skin. “And whoever else we want to invite because it’s our day to tell the world—the whole wide world, baby—that we will love each other until the end of time.”

Bucky’s back arches severely; between them, Bucky twitches and comes, wet and messy and warm. “Stevie,” he sobs, and the tears that were gathering in his eyes begin to fall.

Steve smiles slightly, petting Bucky’s hair through his second orgasm. “That’s it.” He kisses Bucky’s nose and licks up Bucky’s tears, loving the salty taste of it on his tongue. “That’s it, baby. Give it to me. Give it all to me.”

And Bucky does. He gives it all to Steve, every last little bit, sobbing with relief and overstimulation as Steve keeps going, and going and going. He looks at Steve, long lashes matted together from his tears, like Steve is his savior.

He kisses Bucky’s opened mouth. “And when it’s time for me to say my vows?” He thrusts, hard and deep, and eats the wail of almost-pain that falls from Bucky’s lips. “Oh, Bucky. Bucky, baby.” Bucky’s body is like a glove; he feels held and cradled and loved so wholly that all the caverns in his heart are filled. “I think I’ll probably cry with it. With how much I love you.” He licks more of Bucky’s tears away. “And I think you’ll probably cry, too.”

“Tell me.” Bucky takes his hand off Steve’s ass and moves it up along the planes of Steve’s back. He traces his fingers across Steve’s face, honeyed and slow, like he’s in awe of all that Steve is. “Tell me what you would say to me.”

Steve cradles Bucky’s face in both his hands. “I will tell you that I love you.” He wipes away a fresh flood of tears and smiles. Bucky, spiky-lashed and fucked out, is stunning. “I will tell you that we don’t have to hide it anymore. I will tell you that I loved you the whole time. I loved you when you were here and I loved you when you were gone, and I love you now, with me, in my arms and in my heart and against my body.” Each few syllables are backed by firm, long thrusts that pull savory sounds from Bucky’s pretty lips. “I would tell you it’s this that I’ve always wanted, and I waited to have it with you, and now that I know what it’s like to have you at my side in times of peace, the only thing that could make it better is calling you my husband.”

Bucky finds Steve’s hand with his own and interlaces their fingers. “Steve.” He’s pleading and crying, oversensitive and wrung out; he’s matching Steve’s movements thrust for thrust, pull for pull, like it’s what he was made to do. “Steve, please.”

“Oh, baby.” Steve’s smile is wobbly; his eyes burn and his chest is full. “Baby. You’re crying.” He laughs, kind of. Bucky was crying before, but these tears are big and fat and continuous, like there’s an upwelling inside of him and it’s all spilling over now. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong, baby?”

Bucky sniffles and shakes his head and smiles, watery and holy. “I love you.”

“I know.” Steve swells all over his body, too big for his bones. He looks at Bucky. He feels like he’s fallen in love all over again. He wants to bottle this moment up and keep it forever. “I know, baby.” He drops down completely, adhering all of him to all of Bucky. “You’re so pretty when you cry.” He wipes away even more tears. “Thank you for giving them to me.”

“Tell me more.” There’s a little bit of snot on his face and Steve wipes it off quickly, cleaning his dirty hand on the pillowcases. They’ll do laundry later, after Steve’s fucked one more orgasm out of Bucky. “Please, Stevie, tell me more.”

“Oh, darling.” He fucks into Bucky’s mouth with his tongue the same way he’s fucking into Bucky’s body with his cock. “Bucky. Bucky—you feel so good.” He feels full. And held and taken care of and adored. Fucking is good and it always gets Steve off, but it’s this abandonment of inhibitions when he’s with Bucky that makes him the happiest. “You’re so good. D’you hear me?” He kisses Bucky quick. “You’re so good, baby. You’re so good to me. And I’ll tell you that—I’ll tell everybody that.” He sniffles. He’s about to cry, too, because of the way Bucky is looking at him. “I’ll tell everyone that years ago, you saw me. You were the first person to see me. And it’s a hundred years later, and you’re still seeing me.”

Bucky wails. Steve is constant and Bucky is wailing, crying with the invariable drag of Steve’s length on his stressed prostate, at the rim of his puffy hole. And he’s so pretty, always so pretty, and Steve is breathless with it, with adoration and love and a desire that zigzags in the fibers of his bones—he wants Bucky, body and heart and soul, and he wants that for the rest of his life, no matter how long that may be.

Steve’s body stutters. He was alone in this world and empty for so long, but Bucky fills him full, and so, maybe, the holes in his heart were kept bare because Bucky’s the only person that could fill them.

“I’ll remind you that our days aren’t numbered anymore, darling.” He laughs as Bucky seeks his lips for a kiss, indulging the messy touch like a parent would a toddler asking for affection. “I’ll tell you that we will make our own time, and we’ll count it with kisses and touches and laughter.” His eyes fill with tears and he blinks them away before Bucky’s face begins to blur and he can’t have that. “Every time you smile or cry, baby, I’ll be there.”

“Oh, Steve.” Bucky continues to sniffle and sob. It’s a fucking sight, and Steve feels like a god to be the one that Bucky shares this part of himself with. “I want that. I want that with you.” He does his best to smile, albeit a bit shakily. “Only you.”

Steve puts his forehead against Bucky’s and shuts his eyes, basking in the ever-growing intensity of the orgasm that’s just beginning to gather in the pit of his tummy. “Marry me, then,” he says, and, this time, he’s serious. It hits him like the sudden explosion of an old, ancient star: he wants Bucky to say yes. He wants Bucky say yes right now. He doesn’t know what may happen to his heart if Bucky doesn’t say yes. “Marry me, Bucky, and let me call you my husband. Let the world know that we’ve loved each other for a hundred years and we will love each other for a hundred more.”

“Oh, God.” Bucky begins to shake apart. “Oh, Steve, yes.”

Steve gathers Bucky in his arms and redoubles his efforts; he’s close, and he knows how to draw one more orgasm out of Bucky before he comes, too. “All you gotta do is say yes, baby.” The words are a whisper, echoed by the sugary sounds that are falling from Bucky’s lips and Steve’s labored breathing. “Say yes. Just say yes, Bucky. Please say yes.”

He’s pleading. And how funny is that? Steve is brave, courageous, and unbendable. He knows this. He has the type of strength it takes to be the first leaf to fall from a tree, to let go so gracefully and fall to the ground, wilting and vanishing from one life to the next.

But here he is, entreatingly asking for Bucky to say yes, and he has never felt more bold in his life than he does, now, when Bucky gives him a dazzling smile.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” He comes, abruptly, and it’s mostly dry; he arches and bends and curls up into Steve’s body as his third release washes over him in incessant, sticky waves.

Steve follows soon after, giving in to the tickling passion. He fucks Bucky through his climax, prolonging the sensations as long as he can, and only when Bucky begins to push at Steve’s shoulders in silent protest that he’s had enough does Steve stop.

He pulls out with a wheeze at the delicate drag of his sensitive prick along Bucky’s still-clenching walls and falls to the side. He throws one leg over Bucky’s hips and hauls Bucky into a sloppy, weak kiss that’s more of them breathing into one another’s mouths than anything.

They come down slowly, languidly, reveling in the aftershocks of it all and kissing, petting one another through it. Steve is sweaty and winded, and Bucky’s face is dark pink with tear streaks. His stomach is absolutely filthy with his cum. His skin is rubbed red, too, from Steve’s beard and chest hair, and it’s such a saccharine thing, but it makes the primitive part of Steve happy.

He clears his throat. “Hi, baby,” he says, tracing his fingertip along the redness of Bucky’s chest. His tongue is thick in his mouth. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky hums and rolls into Steve’s chest. “I feel like I just got fucked,” he replies, gigging into Steve’s chest. He brings his palm up, spreading his fingers on Steve’s chest and playing with the smattering of brown-sugar hair there. “I meant it, you know?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ll marry you.” He blinks at Steve, doe-eyed and innocent and perfect, even with his spiked lashes and tear-stained face. “I’ll let you romance me for the rest of our lives. I’ll let you tell the whole world you love me.” He smiles big and kisses Steve on the tip of the nose. “I’ll marry you because I want to call you my husband, too.”

Steve is almost afraid to breathe, like any movement will break this moment. “You’re serious?” he asks, rather startled. “I was serious—I am serious. And you are? Serious?” 

“Of course I’m serious, you idiot.” Bucky rolls his eyes and cuddles as close as he can, laughing just a bit at Steve’s lack of eloquence during their post-coital cuddling. “I love you.” He says the words against Steve’s throat, whisper-soft, and Steve wants to soak in them like he would a long, hot bath. “I want to marry you.”

Steve cups Bucky’s face with one hand and tilts his head down until they’re eye to eye. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, honey.” Bucky’s smile turns into a toothy grin, and Steve feels young, unexpectedly, and the years leading up to this moment suddenly don’t matter anymore. He thinks, with an abrupt ferocity, that he would do it all again the same way if it meant that they would end up right here together. “I’m going to marry you.”

Steve drops his forehead against Bucky’s and laughs, pressing his smile onto Bucky’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/geraskefers)


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